Around the streets
the mothers wander and seek to see
their children,
who had sworn to win
when they'd parted at the station.
But, about those who have gone
and glory embraces them,
let us be happy,
let no one of you ever cry,
let her burn her every pain,
and let us wish:
Children, children of Greece,
who are harshly fighting on the mountains,
Children, to the sweet Virgin Mary
we are all praying for you to come back.
I say to all women who love
and stay awake at nights over someone and sigh,
that bitterness and shuddering
do not suit an honest Greek woman.
Greek women of Zaloggos and the city and the forest and you from Plaka,
no matter how bitterly we ache,
we are proudly serving
like the women from Souli.